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Monday, July 10, 2017

From the kitchen, I could hear my 10-year-old son Benny moaning with a
stomach bug. Coming into his room, I put my hand on his clammy forehead,
checking to see if he was still feverish. But he batted my hand away
and called out for Dora, his nanny. “I want Dora to rub my back,” Benny
said. “Get Dora.”

That’s not the only time he’s asked for her instead of me. The other
day, I rearranged my work schedule to pick him up from school — normally
Dora’s job. I eagerly anticipated seeing his face when he scanned all
the other moms and found me. But when his eyes finally met mine, they
hardly lit up. “What are YOU doing here?” he said. “Where’s Dora?”

It’s a legitimate question. Unlike me, Dora is always around. She takes
Benny and his older sister, Talia, on outings after school. She trundles
them off to their haircuts and soccer classes and play dates. Dora and
my kids have routines and rituals in which I have no part, often because
I’m at work.
Still, it hurts every time they choose her over me. There is anger, yes,
as well as pain and jealousy. And then there is a wave of guilt. Does
she care for them better than I do? Am I inadequate as a mother? Who is
their real mom?

These thoughts and feelings never sit well with me. Why am I so
threatened by this wonderful woman’s relationship with my children? I
have no reason to be jealous. Dora makes my life possible. She cares for
my kids as if they were her own. She brags about Benny’s report card on
Facebook and shamelessly trumpets his good looks. At Talia’s bat
mitzvah, Dora beamed with a mother’s pride.
Mothers and nannies: It’s a complex relationship. I know moms who have
fired their caregivers for becoming too attached to their kids, to say
nothing of those let go for being more tied to their phones than to the
children under their care.

Since the flood of women entered the workforce in the 1960s, generations
of mothers have worried about finding responsible child-care providers.
Reports of shaken babies and unattended toddlers add to their anxiety,
leading to widespread use of nanny cams. Yes, watching our kids remotely
gives us some comfort about their safety. But it also reminds us of all
the moments they share with their nannies rather than us.

The resulting feelings are complex. We want our nannies to nurture our
kids as we would. We want them to love them — but not too much.

My bond with Dora, though, is different, because Dora also raised me.
She’s been with my family since I was 2 years old. She arrived in New
York at age 20, after crossing the border in Mexico from Guatemala. At
the time, my mom was desperate for someone to watch us while she started
a jewelry business. I took to Dora immediately.

Dora did everything for me. She woke me up for school and snuggled with
me at bedtime. She listened to my stories and chatted with my friends.
She knew Jennifer liked Doritos and Debbie was fond of mac and cheese.
And I knew every bit of her life as well — the latest updates from her
family in Guatemala, their squabbles and celebrations. We watched the
nightly news on Telemundo and Pat Robertson on the 700 Club. She calmed
my nerves before finals and I, in turn, helped her study to become a
citizen. When I was sick, she was always there to rub my back.

Her devotion is regularly noted by other moms, particularly the ones who
cycle through nannies faster than handbags. They tell me how lucky I am
to have her. And they’re right. But not in the way that they mean. I
don’t have her. I realize now that we have each other. We always have —
right from the start.

She’s been privy to every romance I’ve had. It was Dora who passed on
the red rhinestone bracelet my first boyfriend bought for me when he was
too shy to give it to me himself. And it was Dora who comforted me two
weeks later, when the phone call came announcing he just wanted to be
“friends.”
She protected me not just emotionally but physically. Her room was my refuge, my escape from a taunting older brother.

And I was there for her as well — such as when she learned to drive and
required a booster seat to see above the steering wheel. I didn’t
complain when it took her a half-hour to drive the mile to pick me up
from school — or get anxious at the stream of traffic behind us as we
made our way home. I was proud of her for taking on a new challenge, one
she undertook for herself but also for me.

Why then, given a long history of affection for Dora, do I wrestle with the loving bond she has with my children?

My father, a psychiatrist, always said that the first few years of a
child’s life are the most critical. The care and nurturing they receive
during this time helps determine their capacity for love and empathy and
trust. Neglect or deprivation in these years can have serious
consequences. But the flip side, an overabundance of love and affection,
has only positive benefits.

I’ve learned that with children, love is never a zero-sum game. Just as
we wonder whether we’ll love our second child as much as our first, we
question whether our kids’ attachment to their nanny diminishes the love
they have for us. It’s an understandable concern. But I’ve now been on
both ends of it. And I know — intellectually, at least — that there’s no
reason to fret.

Do I still have twinges of jealousy when they’re cuddling on the couch?
Yes. That may never change. But I’m comforted knowing that Dora is there
for them as much as she was — and still is — for me.Kai Falkenberg is a lawyer and law professor in New York City. Find her on Twitter @kaifalkenberg.